


Suit and Tie

by bottledyarn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Post-Inception, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledyarn/pseuds/bottledyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur was ironing again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suit and Tie

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if there are any grammar mistakes I need to fix. ;) Thanks for reading!

Arthur was ironing again, in a white button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, light gray slacks ever so slightly wrinkled at the ankles, just above his sock-clad feet. He acted like he had a series of jobs lined up that all required him to have piles of business wear ready to go at any given moment. His ties were all ironed already, so it wasn’t like he needed to iron them even if he did have a bunch of jobs. Which he didn’t.

“Arthur,” Eames said, leaning over the back of the white, somehow immaculately snowy and perfect couch, bracing his arms against a table just behind him to keep the sofa from tipping over at the sudden imbalance in weight. His large hands splayed across the wood-finish-smooth-sticky table, the ring on his right thumb making a tiny clink against the surface. “Arthur, why are you ironing?”

Arthur put the iron carefully down in its cradle at the end of the board.

“Cobb called,” Arthur said. “He invited me to his house in America.”

“Oh,” Eames said. “So you’re ironing?”

Arthur looked down at the pile of ties, like he hadn’t realized what he’d been doing. He started to look flustered, his face blotching a little red high up on his cheeks. He huffed out a few half-words and then frowned up at Eames.

“Why are you in my apartment?”

Eames slid back down onto the couch properly, smirking.

“You were stalking me, Arthur, don’t act like you weren’t. It’s a favor for you, that I’m here to make your work easier for you.”

Eames was facing the wrong way, so he couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but he knew exactly what face he was adopting, the little eye roll, the deep dimples forming on his cheeks, the way he pressed his lips together, biting them both between his teeth. It always made him look a bit crazy, but Eames wasn’t about to mention that. 

“You were stalking me, I just wanted to make sure it was you and not a psychopath,” Arthur muttered, rolling his shoulders to try and stretch the tension out. “Scratch that, I wanted to make sure it was you and not a dangerous psychopath.”

“Please, you knew it was me, you’re not an idiot,” Eames said. He swung up off the couch and sat down at the kitchen table he’d been propped against, a few feet closer to Arthur and his ironing board. “What I really want to know is why Cobb called you and not me!”

Arthur shrugged. “Did you tell him what you changed your phone number to?”

Eames pursed his lips. 

“Can’t say I have.”

Arthur gave him a look and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and typed out something quickly. Once he’d finished and set the phone down on his mound of ties, he turned towards Eames, a scowl across his face.

Eames phone trilled within seconds, and he wrestled it out of his coat pocket, answering and pressing it to his ear. 

“Hello,” Eames said. 

“Eames,” Cobb said cheerfully, and Eames could make out the sound of James shrieking high-pitched laughter in the background. “Arthur gave me your phone number, I’ve been trying to track you down myself, but I ended up having to ask around. Didn’t want to break any laws looking for you.”

“Well,” Eames said, drumming his fingertips against the table. “You found me.”

“I want you to come for a stay at my house,” Cobb said. “Next week, preferably, although that’s short notice, I know.”

“That’d do,” Eames said. “I’ll be there.”

“I know we all agreed not to contact one another after the In- the job,” Cobb said. “But I think it’s been long enough now that anyone who wanted us dead would have managed it by now.”

Eames looked up towards Arthur, who was leaning on the other side of the little table, obviously trying to listen to the conversation. 

“Eames?” Cobb asked, after a long moment’s pause. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eames said. “It’ll be nice to see everyone again.”

“Exactly,” Cobb said. “You have to promise not to harass Arthur, though. He seemed a little uncomfortable when I mentioned you.”

Eames pressed his free hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m not kidding, I can hear you laughing,” Cobb said. “I think you intimidate him.  
“You haven’t bothered him since the job, have you?” 

“No,” Eames said. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Good.”

Eames grinned down at the table, shaking his head as Cobb went on, listing off all the things that Eames wouldn’t be allowed to do at the get-together.

“I don’t want you and Arthur’s animosity ruining it for all of us.”

“I’ll see you, what, Monday?” Eames asked.

“Monday’s perfect,” Cobb said. “I’ll text you my address.”

Eames hung up and grinned at Arthur. 

“Cobb thinks I bully you.”

“Well,” Arthur said, lying the ties straight across the ironing board to make row after row of dark, hardly-colored lines. “You do.”

“At least we know that he won’t try and ask us if we broke his little rule about avoiding other team members,” Eames said. “He thinks I hate you and you’re scared of me. If anything, he’ll probably think you and Ariadne made contact early.”

Arthur shrugged. His hair was slicked back- even after crashing on the guy’s couch for two days, Eames had yet to catch a glimpse of Arthur before he managed to do his hair and put on something nice and business professional. 

“How long is he gonna have us all stay there?” Eames wondered aloud. “How much should I pack?”

Arthur shook his head, walking away to unplug the iron. 

“You’re joking, right?” Arthur asked, the barest hint of amusement in his voice as he reached the stove, where a kettle of water was just starting to whistle. He started pouring the water into a mug, waiting for Eames to say something. 

He turned, leaning against the counter to face Eames, paper tag of the tea bag dangling over the side. 

“You have about as many articles of clothing as a dead moth,” Arthur said, making slight movements with his hand to swirl the water around. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you took one of my shirts.” 

Eames scowled, standing up to brush by Arthur into the kitchen area. 

“I’ll go and buy more clothes,” he said. 

“I’m coming,” Arthur said immediately, his head shooting up from its downturned gaze towards his tea. “Don’t make that face, I’m coming. I’ve been doing you a favor, letting you sleep on my couch, in my home.”

Eames shrugged. “Fine.” 

“We’re going today,” Arthur said. “The best shop in the area closes for the weekend.”

Eames started looking through the fridge, trying to find some kind of food that didn’t look like it fell out of a health-food magazine. He’d just managed to scavenge up a package of bacon before his brain managed to chug fully through Arthur’s last sentence. 

“Wait, do you live here all the time?” Eames asked, shoving the fridge shut with his hip. 

Arthur squinted at him. “Obviously.”

“Wow, I did well,” Eames said, banging through several cabinets to produce a frying pan. “I thought this was just a rental or something.”

Arthur sighed, climbing up onto the tall stool at the breakfast bar so he could sit while facing the kitchen. “I really like New Zealand,” he said, propping his chin against his hand. “Hey, whoa, make half the bacon and put the rest back in the fridge.”

Eames did so, tossing the leftover bacon towards the back of the fridge. 

“I would have pinned you as a Canada type of guy,” Eames said, poking at the bacon as the pan started to warm. 

“I hate Canada.”

“Nobody hates Canada,” Eames said. “Is it too cold for you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Arthur said. “You can’t malign me for that, you station in Mombasa half the time, that place is hot as hell.”

Eames smiled, wincing when the bacon popped and sent oil towards his eyes. 

“You know as well as I that I don’t station in Mombasa nearly half the time,” Eames said. “It’s all about the Caymans.”

Arthur sighed. “I know. But obviously you get sick of it time to time, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be at the beach, and I’d be up a half a pack of bacon.”

Eames flipped the bacon slices. “I get bored.”

“Mmhmm,” Arthur hummed around a mouthful of tea. 

“So what’s this lovely store you’re taking me to?” Eames asked, raising his voice over the crackling of the meat. “I’ll tell you right now that I have a personal policy to not spend more than a hundred pounds on a suit.”

Arthur sighed again, louder this time. “I’ll pay the difference. I’ve never had the privilege to be around you when you look like a civilized human being, it would be my pleasure.”

“I look good in a proper suit,” Eames said, winking garishly as he glanced over his shoulder. 

“How would you know, you think a proper suit can cost less than a hundred dollars.”

“A hundred pounds,” Eames corrected. “That’s a big difference.”

“Regardless,” Arthur said. “It would do you good in the professional world to have a few nice suits, anyway.”

“I hope you know that I’m only agreeing to this because I’m a very honorable man.”

“Yes, and you owe me one after getting a smudge of God-knows-what on my couch.”

“Dirt,” Eames said, flipping off the stovetop and scooping the bacon onto a plate that he placed on the bar between him and Arthur. “It’s dirt, and you already cleaned it off.”

Arthur picked up a piece of bacon, raising his eyebrows. “I know it was there, Mr. Eames.”

Eames nodded, and they ate in silence until Arthur abruptly stood up. 

“We’re going now,” he said. “Put on a jacket, it’s raining.”

Eames followed behind him begrudgingly, watching as Arthur toed on his shoes without even leaning over. 

“Hurry up,” Arthur said. 

The shop was scarcely a five minute walk down from Arthur’s house, and Eames didn’t even recognize it as a shop until Arthur stopped him from walking by. The building was stout and brown, and it took a few long moments for Eames to even spot a sign on the building. 

“Are you sure they have suits here, and not cocaine?” Eames quipped, following Arthur into the building. 

The inside was gleaming white, and a man just behind a desk stood up as they came in. 

“Arthur,” he said, smiling broadly, his teeth bright white even against his light gray beard. “Welcome back. What can I do for you today?”

“Not for me, for him,” Arthur said, gesturing towards Eames and leaning against the wall comfortably. “Six suits. And a recommendation for somewhere close to get shoes and ties.”

The man turned his gaze on Eames, and he couldn’t help but feel a little squirmy under the man’s intense stare. It took a lot for him to be uncomfortable around someone, and he felt like he was being interrogated with a glance. 

“Well, take off that stupid coat, and if you’re wearing anything underneath those…sweatpants, take them off and follow me.”

Arthur grinned, gaze flicking between Eames and the shop owner as he walked into the back room. 

“You live here because of this shop, don’t you?” Eames asked, shaking his head as he shed his outer layers. “You weirdo.”

Arthur disappeared into the back room with a smile, and Eames stumbled after him, yanking off his sweatpants. 

He was in the room not two seconds, just a brief look at the exposed wooden beams at the ceiling, before the man went at him with a tape measure. Eames started to feel vaguely harassed, and started sending pained glances over towards Arthur, but it was over and Arthur was gesturing for him to sit beside him on another pure white couch. 

“It will take two weeks,” the shop owner called, back turned towards them as he started writing things down. 

Arthur stood up and walked over to the man, stepping in close to the man, voice low and quiet. 

Eames watched them for the few minutes they talked, and finally Arthur reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet with a smile. 

“The suits will not be perfect,” the man said, approaching Eames while Arthur fiddled with his credit cards. “But they will be ready Sunday night.”

Eames shook the man’s hand, and they were out of the shop within moments, headed towards the place down the street that had shoes and ties, apparently. 

“That man never asked me what colors or fabrics,” Eames said, as they wandered down the mostly abandoned street towards the shop. A few people milled about, bright smiles on their faces, shopping bags on their arms.

“I told him what to do,” Arthur said. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I don’t care, I just thought it was strange for a shop you adore so much.”

Arthur shoved him, and Eames stumbled, glancing at Arthur in surprise, his eyebrows jumping up. 

“I’ll let you get one colorful tie,” Arthur said, gesturing towards the bland looking store they’d just walked up to. 

“Arthur!” a voice shouted, and they both turned fast, Arthur pulling a gun out of somewhere, lifting it towards the voice before letting it fall slowly. 

“Yusuf,” he said. “What are you doing here?” 

Yusuf came up to him with a grin. 

“You going to Cobb’s?” Yusuf asked as he jogged close. He opened his mouth to start again before his eyes caught on Eames.

“Eames?” he asked, incredulous. “What a coincidence that all three of us ran into one another!”

Eames couldn’t help but roll his eyes, and Yusuf caught the movement with a frown. 

“I’m just meeting someone to pick up an order,” Yusuf said. “I’ll see you both on Monday, huh?”

They nodded, and he wandered off. 

“I’m not sure I want him knowing I live here,” Arthur muttered, yanking the door to the shop open. “If he brings it up, don’t mention that.”

 

Sunday night, Eames could hardly recognize himself, standing in the suit shop in a slightly too fitted navy suit. The shopkeeper and Arthur stood a few feet away, eying him critically. Arthur’s forehead had a little dent in it from his deep frown. 

“All set?” Eames asked, swiveling his legs around, skin pressed tight against the fabric. 

“Go,” the shopkeeper said. “I did well.”

Eames stepped down from the little platform he’d been put up on, and walked along behind Arthur back to his house. 

“I’m packing these for you,” Arthur said. “You’ll wrinkle them.”

 

They arrived at the Cobb residence together, deciding that even if Cobb did realize that his team members had broken his rules, he wouldn’t be all that upset since he’d subsequently assume that they didn’t hate each other quite as much as he’d thought. 

Arthur reached over to Eames, tugging at the shoulders of his shirt, to try and get out some of the wrinkles. Both had their suit jackets dangling from their arms, suitcases resting behind them.

The door swung open, and Cobb peered out. Arthur retracted his hands from Eames, sending a smile towards his friend at the door. 

Cobb frowned, eyes darting down towards Arthur’s hands, but quickly his face cleared and he smiled. 

“Welcome to my home!” he exclaimed, stepping back to let them in.

Cobb bustled them up a flight of stairs and into adjacent guest rooms, going on about how he had not enough space and was doling out beds on a first-come-first-serve basis, and they were lucky bastards to have come first. 

Arthur laid down his things on the bed and headed back downstairs, his path merging with Eames’ as they both moved towards the living room, where they could hear Philippa talking to James. 

“This shirt is too small,” Eames said, struggling to push the sleeves up to his elbows. Arthur stopped him in his tracks, rolling the sleeves carefully so that they would stay up without cutting off blood flow. 

Ariadne burst in the front door with a happy shout, dropping her large bags at the door and coming towards them. Arthur stepped back, realizing with an odd falling sensation in his stomach that he’d been standing toe-to-toe with Eames- closer, even, their legs alternating, with Arthur’s right leg between Eames’. Arthur frowned, hugging Ariadne and wondering how he hadn’t noticed how close he’d been standing. He wondered if Eames had noticed. Or if Ariadne had. 

She stepped back once she’d hugged both men, and she stared Eames up and down. 

“You look very professional,” Ariadne said. “It suits you.”

The doorbell rang, and they all turned, looking out the open door at Yusuf, who stood on the porch with a big backpack. 

Cobb came over, kids in tow, and smiled.

“Everyone’s here,” he said happily. Arthur couldn’t help but make a face- he hadn’t seen Cobb this cheerful since his and Mal’s engagement party. Eames nudged him, noticing his wrinkled nose. 

“Why don’t we all eat?” Cobb said. “Then you can all sleep!”

The four of them followed the Cobb family into the dining room, where Cobb had already set out plates. They sat down, Arthur and Eames on one side, Ariadne and Yusuf across from them. Cobb came in with a large tray that he set down in the middle of the table. 

“I made lasagna!” he said. “There’s bread, Philippa has it.”

The girl came in as if on cue, and handed it over. 

The meal was mostly squeaks of silverware against plates and the kids chattering about school and asking questions of all the new adults in their house. 

Cobb whisked the two away to bed and returned with bottles of wine and a big smile. 

“Any trouble since the inception?” Cobb asked cheerfully, handing brimming glasses of wine to his four guests. 

“Nah,” Yusuf said, and the others agreed softly. 

“What time zones are you all coming from?” Cobb asked. “Probably all different ones, but you’re all probably meant to be sleeping right now.”

Yusuf finished his glass of wine with a grin. 

“Actually, funny story, Eames and Arthur and I all bumped into each other in New Zealand on Friday!”

Eames smiled, and looked up from his wine to catch Ariadne frowning at him.

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. She noticed everyone turning towards her, and quickly looked downwards. “Sorry, thought I saw a spider.”

“That’s very odd,” Cobb said, returning to the conversation. 

Eames pursed his lips, wondering if it would be better or worse for Cobb to know that he and Arthur were on perfectly amiable terms. The moment passed, anyway, and Cobb started going on about the kids. 

Eames stood up after he finished his absurdly large glass of wine. 

“Oh, I meant to tell you, Eames, your suit is great,” Cobb said. “You’re practically as well dressed as Arthur.”

Eames grinned. “I’ll make sure not to do it again.”

“That was a compliment,” Arthur said up to him, turning slightly in his chair as Eames started to walk away.

“I’m going to sleep,” Eames said. “See you all in the morning.”

Arthur scooped up the plates from the table, bringing them into the kitchen.

“I’ll have to call it a night, too,” he said. “I’ve been up for a day straight.”

“Night!” Ariadne called. 

The moment he disappeared up the stairs, she turned towards Yusuf.

“You saw Arthur and Eames in New Zealand?” she asked intensely. 

“Yeah!” Yusuf said. 

“They were together when you came up?” she pressed.

“I suppose,” Yusuf said. “Arthur was laughing about something, so they had probably-”

“I think they’re together,” Ariadne said. 

Cobb laughed. 

“They hate each other,” he said. “They’re being pretty civil, which is nice, though.”

“Eames is wearing a suit,” Ariadne said. “They were both in New Zealand, and when I got here, Arthur was standing really close to Eames.”

“Arthur stands close to everyone, he thinks it makes him intimidating,” Cobb said. 

“Stand up,” Ariadne said. Cobb stood. 

“Stand against the wall,” she said, following him over to the wall he chose, just beside the table. She pressed up into his space, slotting her feet into the same position as Arthur’s, grabbing Cobb’s wrist. 

“Arthur stands this close to everyone?” Ariadne asked, once she’d gotten good and close.

Cobb shrugged her off, sitting back down. 

“They might have been arguing, they can get very intense,” Cobb said. “And besides, both of them are straight.”

Yusuf laughed. 

“What?” Cobb asked.

“They’re both about as straight as those lasagna noodles,” Yusuf said, smiling. “I don’t think they’re together, but they’re both very into men.”

“I’ve never seen either of them with a man,” Cobb argued.

“Or woman?” Yusuf asked.

“Well, no, but-”

“Arthur kissed me during the inception,” Ariadne said.

“See!” Cobb exclaimed.

“I’m not done,” Ariadne said. “And he’s definitely gay. It was like kissing my grandma.”

“Maybe you’re just not his type,” Cobb said. 

Ariadne rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say. You’re in denial.”

“They despise one another!” 

“Thin line,” Ariadne said. “Just, don’t be surprised when they get married.”

“As if!” Cobb shouted, as Ariadne wandered out of the room. “If anything, they’re hate-fucking!”

 

Arthur sat up in bed, having just gotten under the covers. He could have sworn he heard shouting. He slipped out of bed, catching a glimpse of himself, hair damp and loose, wearing nothing but shorts because damn Cobb kept his house like a sauna, in the mirror as he went out the door. He went to the next room down, reaching up a hand to knock just as the door swung open. 

Eames was still in his suit, and he froze once he’d pulled open the door, affronted by the sight of Arthur in…hardly anything.

“You look about twenty two,” Eames said, that being the first thing that sprung to his mind. 

Arthur scowled. “There’s a reason I wear suits, Mr. Eames.”

“So people think there’s a chance you’re out of university?”

“Exactly,” Arthur said. “Did you hear the shouting?”

Eames shut his door behind him, gesturing for Arthur to come downstairs. 

“What are you, twenty five?” 

“Twenty nine,” Arthur said, and Eames noticed the gun dangling from the man’s slender fingers.

They came around the corner at the bottom of the staircase and ran straight into Cobb, who had a deep frown on his face. It deepened when he saw them, and he turned around and walked away, muttering under his breath. 

“We heard shouting,” Eames said. 

“Go back to sleep, it’s all fine,” Cobb said, disappearing into another room.

Eames shrugged and headed back upstairs. Arthur paused before following him, jogging slightly to catch up when he noticed he was exactly on eye level with Eames’ ass in those pants. 

“One of the kids must have done something,” Arthur suggested, as they came back towards their rooms.

“Cobb doesn’t shout at those kids,” Eames said. “Yusuf must have said something stupid.”

Arthur nodded, and caught his eyes drifting down Eames’ body. 

“The suit looks good,” Arthur said. 

Eames smirked. “Thanks, darling.”

Arthur stiffened, halfway turned away. He closed his eyes and let out a small breath, shutting himself into his room quickly. 

There was a knock almost immediately, and Arthur stood, back against the wood, listening. 

“You look good in your pants,” Eames said, and Arthur couldn’t tell which tone of voice it was in- his amused voice or his angry voice, but he definitely didn’t like it. Not one bit. 

Arthur buried himself into the thick layers of sheets on the bed, face down. 

 

 

Cobb woke up to a knock on his door, and opened it to find Ariadne. She had a wild grin on her face, and he sighed.

“What is it?”

“I was,” Ariadne shook her head. “Well, I was snooping-”

Cobb winced.

“And I found Arthur and Eames’ keys in both of their rooms,” Ariadne said, holding up two key rings. “They were both down having breakfast, and I-”

“You decided to search their stuff,” Cobb said. He waited for her to look guilty, but she didn’t. He finally broke as she jingled the keys. “What is it?” 

“They have matching house keys,” Ariadne said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Eames only has that one key, and Arthur has the same one!” 

Cobb shook his head. “They don’t live together, Ariadne, there’s no way.”

“Why don’t we ask them,” Ariadne said. “I’ll put the keys away.”

Cobb sighed and started to get dressed, waiting for her to return. She did so promptly, and he followed her downstairs, wondering how his life had come to this point.

Arthur and Eames were in the living room, sitting side by side and eating scrambled eggs and bacon. 

“Good to see you’ve raided the fridge,” Cobb said. 

Eames shrugged. 

“Do you live together?” Ariadne blurted. 

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Cobb, we were never in any danger from being around each other,” he started. 

Cobb let out a gasp, and Arthur stopped talking.

“Did you just gasp?” Arthur asked. 

“It’s just, I can’t believe it!”

“He was just crashing at my house for a few days,” Arthur said incredulously. “You can’t possibly be upset, you’re the one who made us all come here.”

“Your house?” Cobb asked. “Oh, my god. I don’t even know where you live!”

“I think he might be kidding,” Eames offered from the couch, looking up at Arthur, who had stood up. 

“I’m not kidding!” 

“What’s the matter with you, then?” Eames asked. “Don’t have our hides for not managing to avoid everyone for an entire year.”

“It’s not that!” Cobb said. “I just can’t believe that you’re- you’re-”

“Together!” Ariadne exclaimed. 

“What- what do you mean, together?” Arthur asked, his heart thrumming in his chest. 

“Like, in love, whatever,” Ariadne said. “Living together?”

“We’re not together, doll,” Eames said. “Sorry to burst your bubble. You seem pumped about it.”

“I told you,” Cobb said. “They’re hate fucking.”

“Whoa!” Eames said, standing up. “We’re not fucking.”

“Oh,” Ariadne said. “You’re just…staying in the same place?”

“Exactly,” Eames said. “For a few days. And Arthur here made me buy suits.”

“I bought the suits,” Arthur said, picking up his plate and heading into the kitchen. 

“He did,” Eames admitted. “I don’t buy suits that cost more than a hundred pounds.”

Ariadne shook her head. “You’re such disappointments. You have so much sexual tension!”

Eames’ eyes widened. 

“Well,” Ariadne amended. “I guess it’s just tension. Are you guys friends, then? And just have a love-hate relationship or something?”

“I guess so,” Eames said, scooping up his plate and wandering out of the living room. 

“Do you think they’re lying?” Ariadne asked immediately.

“They just said they’re not together,” Cobb said. “I was right.”

Ariadne rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen. Eames was headed out, flicking soapsuds off of his hands. 

She gave him a sheepish smile, and he grinned back, walking by and heading up the staircase. 

Eames jogged up the stairs, his sock-covered feet making soft thuds against the stairs. He walked down the hallway, nearly silent, until he came to Arthur’s door. He paused, trying to figure out what he was doing. He felt like Ariadne had punched him in the stomach when she’d said they had sexual tension. The whole damn situation, he felt like Cobb and Ariadne had slapped him upside the head over and over. And he’d seen Arthur- the guy was always so calm, or at the very least collected, and he was stuttering as soon as they’d been accused, then hardly talking. 

He felt like his decision had been made as soon as he pictured Arthur standing there, hands clenched at his sides, hair slicked back all perfect, tendons standing out on his neck. He knocked on the door. 

There was a long pause, and Eames opened the door slowly, peering in. Arthur’s shirt was lying on the floor beside the en-suite bathroom door. He stared at it, throat feeling tight as he realized that he had another chance to change his mind. He smiled, knowing that the fact that he felt nervous told him that he was making the right choice. 

The bathroom door swung open, and Arthur stepped out, buckling his pants, his hair soaking wet, drops falling down his chest. 

Arthur was shaking his head as he came out, and he froze when he spotted Eames, just inside the door. 

“Mr. Eames, you realize this is my room-”

Eames shook his head, cutting him off. 

“I was just taking a shower,” Arthur said softly, looking down at his toes. 

“I can see that,” Eames said. “Bit of a waste of water, to take two showers in, what, twelve hours?” 

Arthur looked up, making that face again. 

Eames stepped in closer, and Arthur took a step back, back against the wall just next to the bathroom. 

“Was it a cold shower?” Eames asked, pressing in closer, one foot between Arthur’s, legs close, pressed up tight. 

Arthur took a slight breath, a hitching intake that Eames could feel against his chest. 

“I feel like I could use one about now,” Eames said, leaning so that his lips were brushing against the crook of Arthur’s jaw, just beside his ear. “Your hair all wet and messy, all that talk about us.”

“There- there is no us,” Arthur struggled out, leaning his head away from Eames, which only pressed his skin against Eames’ lips, so that the brush wasn’t really a brush at all. “Eames.”

“Arthur,” Eames huffed. “Darling.”

“Why do you call me-” Arthur’s breath caught again. “Call me that?” 

Eames let his hands fall to Arthur’s slim, bare waist. “Why do you let me?”

Arthur’s hands pressed against Eames’ chest, gripping at his suit jacket before pushing him back slightly, to look at his face. 

He looked almost himself- gaze sharp and steely, mouth pressed into a line. He stared back at Eames, eyes flickering as he tried to see what was behind the soft, warm glow that was pressing back towards him. 

Eames let his fingers start to go slack, realizing that Arthur was about to push him away, when Arthur pressed forward, hands slipping up to Eames’ hair and neck so that he could kiss him, warm and soft. Eames’ hands tightened again, and he wondered if they would leave bruises, as he kissed back, his entire body against Arthur’s so he could feel their pulses start to align. 

Arthur hands, cold from the shower, gripped at the back of Eames’ neck, and he reached down to scoop Arthur up, so his legs wrapped around Eames. Arthur let out a groan as Eames moved to his neck, and he turned them around, throwing Arthur down onto the bed before climbing over him, biting at the pale skin just above his collarbone, letting Arthur tug at the suit jacket. 

He peeled off his layers, so they were both in just their trousers, pressed against each other tight, and Eames stared at Arthur’s red cheeks before letting his body slip down closer so that the erratic jerking of Arthur’s hips could turn into something a little more fruitful. 

They ground against each other, and Eames started to feel his fingers buzz, a warm feeling spiraling around in his gut, and when Arthur let out a cry, hips snapping up hard, Eames grinned, feeling his own orgasm hit him hard, glad to not be the only one coming ridiculously fast. 

Eames rolled them over, so Arthur, the lighter of the pair, was on top, lips pressed to Eames’ neck as he muttered things almost too quiet for Eames to make out. He bit at the skin he’d been having a conversation with, and Eames couldn’t help but gasp, his knee drawing up to give him some leverage under the man on top of him. 

“Eames,” Arthur said finally, audibly. “If you would be so obliged,” he bit at Eames’ lip, kissing him hard and slow. “I would much appreciate it if you stopped dirtying my couch at home and moved to the bed.”

“Do I get my own drawer?” Eames hummed, running his hands along Arthur’s sides. 

“You can have your own dresser,” Arthur said, his fingernails sharp against Eames’ arms. 

The door swung open, and both of them sat up, Arthur straddled over Eames' hips. 

“Oh,” Yusuf said. “Ariadne was right.”


End file.
